


Three Kisses

by cosimascully



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosimascully/pseuds/cosimascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He can count on his hand the number of times they’ve kissed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> warning for straight up Doomsday angst

He can count on his hand the number of times they’ve kissed.

One. On the Gamestation.

Two. In the New Earth hospital.

Three. In the corridor of the TARDIS, right before bed.

It’s the third time that he thinks of most— they’re coming back from the media room, giggling, and then they’re in front of her door and he’s dropping her off like a boy on his first date.

She winds her arms around his neck, and he thinks—it’s just a hug. That’s new, for them, hugging goodnight, but not at all unpleasant.

She pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes. Her pupils are wide and the thin rim of hazel surrounding the black glimmers from the light coming out of her room.

“Doctor,” she begins, and finishes with—her soft lips against his, sliding gently across. They’re soft and insistent, and warm, and wonderful, and, and—   _Rose Tyler is kissing him._

He doesn’t kiss back.

He later blames it on habits, or his rules, or maybe—oh, he doesn’t really know. It all comes down to the same thing: her trying to push them forward and him refusing to move.

She pulls back, hesitant.

“Sorry,” she mutters, a red flush coming over her cheeks. “Sorry, I just thought—”

He freezes, and there’s so much he wants to say. _Don’t be sorry_ or _kiss me again, Rose_ or _No, **I’m** sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m scared of this_ —but the words stick in his throat and all he can manage is—

“Rose, I—”

She shakes her head. Her eyes don’t meet his. “No, it’s fine. I understand, you don’t want this—”

“No,” he manages to choke out, but she just continues over him.

“—Right _now,_ ” she finishes, and lays a hand on his arm, and what she says next—it makes him love her even more. “I’ll wait, yeah?”

All he can do is nod, and wrap his arms around her and hug her tightly, so tightly, and breathe her in, and—

 _Maybe… Maybe tomorrow_ , he thinks, hope fluttering in his chest. Maybe tomorrow he’ll have the courage, maybe tomorrow he can push aside his fears.

The next morning, Jackie calls.

The next day, she’s gone, and he loses his chance. 


End file.
